Until It's Gone
by Miriala
Summary: You don't know what you've got until it's gone, or so they say. Kyle wakes up one morning and discovers that this has never been more true for him before than now. And now that he knows what he had, he'll even go to Hell and back again to get it back. Mainly Style. Dip and Bunny if you squint. Rated M because... well, it's South Park!
1. Chapter 1

**Okay!**

 **This is my third story, I believe, and my second one for South Park. This idea came to me in some darker times at home and felt like writing something not so happy - happy for once. If you were looking for a lemon at the end of this, YOU WILL BE DISSAPOINTED. I'd rather not deceive you, as this story is rated M for language, well, it's South Park. What the fuck did you expect?**

 **So without further ado, I bid you good reading, chers lecteurs.**

I woke up in bed that morning, as I did every Saturday, following a precise series of steps to get out of bed.

Step One: Open eyes slightly, so as not to get blinded by the 10: 30 light coming in through my bedroom window. Stay like that for at least ten minutes. Step Two: Sit up in bed and wrap comforter around body, taking care to carefully hide any exposed skin aside from the face (because the cold morning air is cruel). Step Three: Lazily drag legs over the side of the bed and mentally prepare yourself to get up. Step Four: Actually get out of bed and leave it's comfort. Cast a regretful and longing glance behind as you walk away for dramatic effect. Step Five: Proced in the usual morning rituals.

And so after following my Five Step Plan, I find myself downstairs in the kitchen to greet my parents. However, the room is empty, as is the rest of the house when I found that no one answered the call I threw. I look around for a note but I find none, to my great surprise. Usually my parents always left a note for me and Ike if they were gone on some emergency or something.

I shrug, deciding that there are better things to do while my parents aren't home. I leave the kitchen and head to the door (yeah, I know I should eat, me being diabetic and all, but I know that that's not what's gonna kill me in this town. Besides, I wasn't even hungry), going to grab my jacket, but strangely, it's already on me as well as my boots. Oh well.

I go to open the door and find myself struggling to do so. I grab on with two hands and manage to pull it open and swing it shut behind me after I exit. I'll have to tell dad to oil the hinges when I see him. I walk down the peaceful Saturday morning street, enjoying the warmer wind on my cheeks. Finally, the seemingly eternal winter that lingered on South Park was beginning to thaw. I heard the birds singing and the noises of the neighborhood, like dogs barking and kids laughing. I saw a few of them having a snowball fight with what was left of the snow on the other side of the road and I smiled, remembering the ones me and my friends had when we were ten.

I still remember a lot of things from then and I sometimes find myself wishing that I could go back to that time. I guess a lot of things change, six years later.

I dodged quickly as I saw a stray snowball fly inches away from my face. I looked over to the kids and saw that they were continuing like nothing happened. Geez, what happened to saying sorry. Kids these days.

I walked over to the park on my way downtown. There I saw Cartman sitting on a bench with Wendy (yes he was dating her. Don't ask me how, I have not the slightest clue), holding hands and talking. I greeted them as I passed, but they didn't look my way. I waved, trying to catch their attention, then I shouted quietly when the waving didn't work.

"Cartman!" he continued talking to Wendy. "Hey, Fatass!" I tried and expected something along the lines of 'The fuck do you want, Jew boy?' but nothing came. "Dickhole! Lard ass! Gaywad!" nothing, not even a flinch in my direction. Even Wendy sat there, smiling at Cartman sadly, who was, remarkably, trying to comfort her.

I huffed and walked away in frustration, my fists curling at my sides. Deep breath in... Then let it out... Let it go, they weren't worth it anyway. I continued my walk to the center of South Park and looked for a place to hang out. Of course, I could have stayed home to do so, but some fresh air once in a while never hurt anybody, right? Right.

Usually, in a small town like this one, everyone knew everyone, the young and the old alike, so it was custom to greet the people you knew when you saw them on the street or in the store and whatnot. But this morning, it was like no one saw me, like I wasn't even there. I said hello to the people I knew and received nothing at all in return, not even a grunt or an empty stare. I finally gave up and entered a coffee shop, feeling dejected, slipping in the building behind another customer.

Since no one was at the counter, I headed over there to order a coffee. As I stood there, trying to talk to girl, she just stared ahead, past me, through me. It was disconcerting, the completely disinterested and bored look she had.

Finaly, I gave up and steped aside. I went to sit one one of the empty chairs and watched the world go by through the large windows that was the front of the shop.

I liked doing this sometimes, just watching people, observing it like I would a science experiment, trying to discerne what they were thinking while they did that or that action. It interested me to know how people thought and why they did what they did, what makes us different from the others and yet all the same. I liked to think of us as ants sometimes: all of us had a specific job in the colony of our town, to keep it safe (God knows we will never be safe enough, here), to bring in food, to insure the productivity of the colony, ect. It was amusing, how we think ourselves so special and more evolved from others and yet we are all basically the same. Exept, we are unlike the ants, intelligence wise. We are more like cats: we are so smart that we can climb the tree in record time, but we're too stupid to get back down, even though we know how.

I sat there I-don't-know-how-long before I got up anf left the shop. Seeing as it was Saturday, I thought that maybe Stan would wanna do something. I went over to his house and knocked at the door. It was Mrs. Marsh that answered it, looking like she had been crying for a while. I stood there a moment, surprised. I wasn't used to seeing her like that and what didn't help was the expression of confusion that gave place to anoyance when she looked around outside, seemingly searching for the person that knocked.

I waved my hand in her face and said hello, but a tear just ran down her cheek and she left the door open while she walked away, her face in her hands. I stepped in just before Mr. Marsh closed the door and went to comfort Sharon, who was now sobbing. I tried to ask what was wrong but they just ignored me, like the rest of the town.

Seeing as this was a lost cause, I headed up to Stan's. What I discovered there was a most dreaded sight.

His room was a complete mess (like, way more than usual) and he was sitting on his bed, dressed from head to toe completely in black with the heavy black eyeliner to accompany the full Goth look. He had the black pin that I liked so much on his right brow and his cross earing was on, as well. Some kind of metal song was playing in the background (Three Days Grace, I think?), the kind of music Stan only listens to when he's depressed or every time he broke up with Wendy... Except that was a month ago, when HE left HER because he was tired of all their shit. So why the Hell was he being a Goth?

"Stan," I said. "Hey..." I approached him carefully, stepping over the debris that cluttered his bedroom floor.

He didn't look up from the spiral notebook he was scribbling in. "Stan? What's wrong?" I sat on the corner of his bed.

At my movement, his gaze darted in my direction somewhat fearfully but as if I wasn't there. I saw that he had been crying for a while, too, his eyes puffy and red and the eyeliner slightly smudged at the corners.

"Stan? Hey, it's just me," I said as I leaned forward to put a hand on his shoulder. He backed away, dropping the open notebook from his lap. Something like a poem was written inside.

"No! Stay away!" he cried.

"What?" I asked, confused by his reaction. I stood up.

He pushed himself to the other side of his bed in fear. "Leave me alone! I don't want anything from you! Go!"

His words stung me deeply. "Fine then!" I spat. "Be a fucking emo and kill yourself alone!" and I walked out his room and down the stairs.

I stormed out of the Marsh residence and headed to Kenny's house. Maybe he would at least look at me. I walked down the street and used my anger management techniques to somewhat calm myself down. After years of enduring Cartman, God only knew that I needed some way to stop myself from killing him. Fortunately - or not - they worked.

In a few minutes, I found myself at his doorstep. Before I could lift my fist to knock, the blonde himself opened.

"Hey, dude," he said and smiled.

"Ah! Finally!" I exclaimed. "Someone who can see me!"

"Huh? What d'you mean?"

"I mean, your the first person to actually look _at_ me and speak _to_ me."

His smile faded. "Come in in and explain."

"O... Kay...?" I stepped inside the house, the usual smell of beer and smoke hitting me full face.

We went to the living room and each took a seat on opposite ends of the couch. "Well, usually when you say 'hi' to people, they give you some kind of acknowledgement, even if they hate you and wish you were dead, right?" He nodded so I continued. "So when I saw Cartman and Wendy at the park this morning, they didn't even glance at me when I went over to them. I ragged on Cartman, but I didn't even get a twitch of irritation out of him. He and Wendy just went on talking as if I wasn't even there.

"Then at the coffee shop, the clerk didn't look a me, just past me. Like she was looking _through_ me. It freaked me out, that stare. And the people on the streets acted as if I didn't exist.

"I even went to see Stan and he was a complete Goth and got all scared when I tried to ask him what was wrong. He told me to go away and he was looking at me with that same empty stare that everyone else has been giving me all day!

"So now you're the first person to actually acknowledge me today!" I was slightly out of breath by the end of my venting.

Kenny stared at me from his end of the couch, his eyes thoughtful. After a moment of that, he said two simple words.

"You're dead."

"Yeah, that's how I feel!" I snapped.

"No, I mean your literally dead."

"The fuck are you talking about?" I wasn't in the mood for stupid jokes like that.

"Like, your physical body has died and you are now in spirit form. That's what I'm talking about."

He liked completely serious while saying this and I got a shiver down my spine.

"Dead? How the fuck can I be dead?" I demanded.

"Well, I guess Cartman finally got you." he smirked.

"What?!" I gaped at him.

"He's been planing how to kill you again, for about a month or so. We all told you to be careful, because no one really knew how he was gonna try this time. I tried to find out, but I only ended up getting killed again. I wanted to help you, but it seems it's too late." his smirk held a hint of sadness in it. "I'm sorry, dude."

I was incredulous. Either this was all a very elaborate joke to get me back on something that I did in the past and it was working perfectly, or Kenny was telling the truth and I really was dead. I truly hoped it was the first, because I don't know what to think of the second. But the more I studied Kenny's words and completely sincere expression in front of me, the more I realized that it was indeed the latter situation that was reality.

"But... how... what..." I was at a loss for words.

"I can't help you with anything, really. All I can say is go to Hell."

"What d'you mean you can't help me!?" I shouted. "And why the fuck should I go to Hell!?"

"Because Heaven sucks ass and face it, Kyle, everyone in this town is dammed from the day they were born. No one goes up there."

I sat and thought a moment. "Why can you see me, then? Is it base of some kind of curse or glitch in the world?"

"Yeah, I guess." he shrugged.

I sighed heavily. "Well, guess I'll be spending a lot more time with you, then"

"Yeah, I guess."

We both got up as I went to leave. I tried to pull the door open, but it wouldn't budge. I tried again, until Kenny put his hand over mine - or through, rather - and opened it up for me. He gave me an apologetic smile as I turned to the road.

I sighed again, unsure of what to do next. No sure what I could do like this, I mean, fuck, I could barely open a damn door without having someone help me. I suppose I could go home and ponder on my whole situation in the comfort of my room.

When I got there, I saw that my family still wasn't back from wherever. I went up to my door and worked a good ten minutes into opening the damn thing, very grateful that I'd forgotten to lock it this morning when I left. But it didn't feel this heavy earlier, wich was strange.

I shrugged and proceeded to take of my boots... only to find my feet already bare. Funny, I would have sworn that I had them on all day.

I quickly climbed the stairs to my room and graced at the digital clock on my nightstand. It said 3:46. I sure spent a lot of time outside, even though it only felt like an hour or so, it had been more than five hours. Time probably passed differently for the dead.

An idea then made it's way to my mind. I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself thoroughly. I had my signature green ushanka and orange jacket (I hadn't changed my style since elementary and went to the end of the world to find the same green hat), as well as a pair of jeans on. I thought of something to wear that was more comfortable, like my black sweat shirt and grey joggings. I closed my eyes and when I opened them, and as expected, I was dressed as wanted.

My eyes widened in surprise. Note: When a ghost, one can change their appearance as they wish.

I was about to try something else when I heard the front door open. I went downstairs to see who it was and sure enough, my parents and brother were back.

My father looked shaken, not calm and composed like he usually was. His face was ridden with sadness and his eyes seemed dimm. He was helping my mother in through the door, who was sobbing uncontrollably.

She was a mess, with her usually bright red hair somewhat matted and dull. Her eyes were shut and long tear streaks stained her face. She tried to say something but her voice caught and she began sobbing again.

Last came my brother. At nine years old, he was already in middle school, since he was such a genius. His expression was that of a condemned criminal with his eyes cast down and an empty look in his blue eyes, but not the same look I got usually. This was one of great loss.

Before they closed the door, I ran out because I couldn't stand the sight of seeing them like that. They were supposed to be happy, like any normal family. I felt a tear run down my own cheek, freezing in the wind. Gha! What to do?! I'm dead, so I can't really do anything to comfort them or reassure them that I'm alright. Aaaaah...!

Wait! Kenny said that Cartman had been plotting to kill me for a while, before all this happened. Maybe I should go pay him a visit and see if I could get some answers out of him. Yes, that's what I'll do.

I made my way down the street in the snow that was now falling. The afternoon light was getting dimmer as time went by. Judging by the sun's position, I guess it was around five thirty that I reached the green house where Fatass lived.

Fortunately for me, just as I went to open the door, Liane Cartman walked out. I took my chance and slipped inside before she could close it. I heard the car door slam shut as the engine roared to life and she pulled out of the driveway.

I grinned maliciously while I climbed the stairs to Cartman's room. He was scared shitless of ghosts and now he was at my mercy, all alone with the spirit that he hated the most coming to haunt him.

His door was partially open so I gently pushed on it so I could pass. Just that simple move cost a lot of effort on my part, but this was worth it. Cartman was stretched out on his bed, casually scrolling through his phone, probably on Facebook or something. He hadn't noticed the door.

I stepped inside and looked around, searching for something to spook him with. My gaze roamed the room until it landed on Clyde Frog, who was seated atop Cartman's dresser. I strode over to it and then looked to its owner: he was still occupied.

Taking all my strength, I pushed the stuffed animal onto the floor. It fell with a _thump_ , effectively catching Cartman's attention. He shut his phone to get up and approach Clyde Frog. In doing so, he passed right through my body. He must've felt something, because a moment later he froze, then turned around with his eyes wide.

"No way..." he muttered. "No fucking way... Kahl?"

"Yes, Fatass, it's me," I snapped even though he couldn't here me.

"Oh God, Khal, please don't do this to me... You know I had nothing to do with... what... happened to you..." he stammered.

"What happened to me?" I demanded.

As if he'd heard me, he said, "We found you in Stark's Pond, blue and frozen... We pulled you out as fast as we could, Stan even jumped in to save you... But you were already gone... We were to late... Why d'you do it, Khal?"

"I jumped on the pond?!" I shouted. "Why the fuck would I do that?!"

"I dont know why you did," a tear streamed down his round face. Wow. Cartman crying was a rare sight, especially when it was genuine. "But now my favorite Jew is dead and all I have left to rip on is Poorboy and Stan. It's already no fun without you and it's only been three days... I'm sorry, Kyle," he pronounced my name without the slang he usually put into it. "I'm sorry for all the shit I did to you. I know I tried to kill you many times before and I don't regret any of that one bit because I always wanted it to be me, that you die by my hand. But everything else... Damn it! Why!?" he screeched.

OK, I'd heard enough. It was a pretty good apology, coming from him, anyway. I turned and left him to cry silently in the safety of his bedroom.

Downstairs, I went to the front door again. I tried to push my hand through it, thinking that if Cartman was able to pass through me, I could go through the door. But no, it didn't work like that. I gathered my strength and opened it. I left the green house feeling quite confused.

So apparently I had thrown myself into the pond and they had been too late to save me. So then why did Kenny tell me that Cartman had something to do with my death? Maybe because he wasn't there and he and Stan hadn't told him yet. Or it could be something else, but what?

As Stan's name came into my mind, I thought that I should go and see him. Maybe he knew something more, and I wanted to apologize to him for my earlier words even though he wouldn't here anything and hadn't heard anything either.

It was dark out now and the snow was falling more heavily. It seemed like a storm was developing, and a big one at that. One good thing that came with my condition was that I didn't feel that cold as much, anymore, thank God. No, it might have been God's doing, all of this, so screw him. Like Christophe always said: God was a fucking bastard.

I chuckled at the thought. I wonder what had happened to that Frenchy after that war with Canada ended. Never heard from him again after that. The guy just dies in my arms and disappears the morning after. Ah, simply another day in South Park.

I soon found myself in front of Stan's house and unfortunately, no one seemed to be going out the house. I frowned. I went to the windows to see if anyone was up and fortunately, there wasn't. I tried the door and found it unlocked. I stepped inside, waiting in the entrance as my eyes adjusted to the gloom. Over in the corner, an old-looking Sparky lifted his head lazily, not even bothering to bark, probably because it was someone he knew that had entered the house. I smiled at him and bent down to pet him, in vain for my hand just went right through him. I guess I can pass through living beings, but not inanimated things.

I climbed the stairs one by one, careful to step on the right places so as not to make them creak. I found my friend's bedroom door ajar, just enough for me to slip in without effort. Stan was sitting at his desk now, still dressed as a Goth and scribbling in his notebook. I walked forward and looked over his shoulder to see what he was writing with such fervence, careful not to touch him in any way.

It was indeed a poem that I'd glimpsed, earlier. It read as such:

 _Death and despair,_

 _That is all the world is._

 _We are nothing but empty vessels,_

 _Filled with the putrid rot of humanity._

 _All we do is take and want more,_

 _But what good is material,_

 _When it simply vanishes when it dies?_

 _Death and despair,_

 _That is all we are._

 _What good is it to live,_

 _When from the day you are born,_

 _You are condemned to death?_

 _What good is it to take the hope that is offered,_

 _Only when it will be taken away?_

 _Death and despair,_

 _That is all life is._

 _While others lament that life is too short,_

 _We wait only for Death to take our souls,_

 _For God to have truly abandoned us._

 _We wait only for the sweet release,_

 _The reward that is at the end of all the darkness that is the light._

 _Death and despair,_

 _We only live for that day when we are taken down to Hell,_

 _For that is where all souls go._

 _We wait for the day that despair will end,_

 _For within only death will we be truly free._

I read that and my heart pinched in my chest. Oh, how he was wrong!

"No, Stan, death is not a liberation. It is pain and punishment, not the reward of life. It only separates the people who are close, takes them to another world. It fucking sucks ass," I explained to him.

Of course, he hears nothing of this and continues to scribble, this time drawing something. He sketches the outlines of two people, one holding the cheek of the other in it's palm, their faces inches away. The first one, the one holding, had dark hair that covered his eyes, so I couldn't tell what the caracter was thinking exept for the tear that traced his cheek. The second, the one being held, had light curly hair, wich also covered his gaze, and was looking down as the other cuped his cheek. Strangely, I thought that these two caracters resembled Stan and I, but I dismissed the thought quickly.

Having somewhat completed his drawing, Stan threw his pencil down and leaned back and I jumped back so as not to touch him. He sighed heavily and looked at the ceiling.

"Why?" he said simply. "Why'd you do it, Ky?" he added after a while.

I stared at him and I really wished I had a an answer. After all, how could I tell him something that even I didn't know? My life (or was it death?) was now all a mess. What the fuck was I supposed to do?

"I don't know, Stan..." I said anyway.

"You know, it's times like these that make me realize that God is not as just and righteous as they all make him seem. What kind of God would let his subjects suffer like this for no other reason that his sick pleasure of watching us suffer. Christophe was right: God truly is a fucking bastard," he chuckled sourly.

"Ha! I know what you mean," I said, chuckling myself at hearing my earlier thoughts voiced by my best friend. I went over to his unnocupied bed to sit down.

"I loved you, dude. Like really loved you, in more than a brotherly way. Like I used to love Wendy. I still do, even though I know you'll never come back." Suddenly, the sketch now made sens. "Hehehe, sounds strange to hear those words come out of me, I'd kept them in so long. Since, like, seventh grade, I think. I remember the day I realized my feelings.

"It was the end of the school year and the class had gone on a trip to California. On the last day, had the day at the beach and we had decided to go treasure hunting, because Cartman had bet that the first one to find a gold coin would get twenty dollars from the other three, and if we didn't find any, Cartman would give us twenty each for proving him wrong. Of course, we both knew it was vain, we'd never find one, but apparently the prospect of leeching a twenty out of Fatass was more powerful that reason," he paused and smiled at the memory. I did, too, clearly remembering the feeling of determination of getting paid by Cartman.

"It was around the end if the day," he continued. "When the class was supposed to regroup and head to the hotel and we realized that you were missing. We set out to look for you, and of course Fatass was practically doing back flips he was so happy you weren't there. I remember feeling nervous about you, hoping you were okay and not lost or hurt.

"Later on, I found you further down the beach, in a kind of cave in the cliffside. You were sitting at the entrance while the waves crashed gently around you, looking just so serene and at peace with the world as you watched the sun go down on the water. And that precise moment, I remember as if it was yesterday, the way it hit me: you were so fucking perfect it was almost impossible. It was like a stab in the heart and it fucking hurt, but the good kind of pain, the kind that makes you realize that you love someone that has been there since forever.

"'How could I ever have missed it?' I thought to myself. You were the reason why I broke up with Wendy a month ago, because she couldn't make me happy and feel good the way you did. I was trying to find a way to tell you, and when I finally did find it, I found you in the pond, cold, blue and lifeless." he stopped and I saw his saphire eyes water through my own blurry vision.

Stan had just professed his love for me and here I was, unable to do a fucking thing about it. I, too, felt that way for him, and I had for a really long time. I had said nothing and hid my emotions because I was afraid of destroying our precious friendship that we'd had since we were born, practically.

When Stan voiced my thoughts, I sobbed and was glad that he couldn't see me like this. I had to do something. There had to be something I could do, right? There's always something, some way.

I racked my brain for ideas, just one that had even the most remote possibility of working, but I had no clue as to where to start looking. Then I remembered my conversation with Kenny this afternoon. 'Go to Hell' he'd said. I'd taken it as an insult back then, but now it seemed like the one thing that I could do.

I stood from Stan's bed and bid him goodbye, saying that I was sorry for what I'd said to him before. He himself was crying like I had been a moment ago, and my heart twisted in my chest at the sight, like a knife was being thrust into it. I couldn't bear to see him like this, like rest of my family, so broken down and sorrowful. They were ment to be happy and oblivious to the pains of death, not in this miserable shape. So I set out to do what I had to.

I went to Hell.

 **Yes, I wrote that thing in there. I own it. No steal (not that I think anyone would).**

 **Anyhoot, thank you for reading this first chapter. I promise, more will come next week, same day as today. Also, this story is already written, so if you have suggestions, it's very likely you won't find them in the next chapters.**

 **However, feedback is very much appreciated and flames will be used to keep me warm.**

 **South Park is owned and created by Matt Stone and Trey Parker. Not me.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Right!**

 **Chapter Two! Not yet the longest, but still, it took a lot of time to write. This one is in Hell and Kyle gets to see a familiar face, well, two actually. Hope you like!**

 **Without further ado, read on, chers lecteurs.**

The first thing I felt when I came to my senses was the overwhelming heat and dryness of the place. I opened my eyes to see dark stone ground under my face. I sat up and rubbed at my head, feeling an intense headache that made my head pound and nauseous. I squeezed my eyes shut again and bent down. After a few minutes, the headache finally subsided a bit and I was able to take in my surroundings.

I was in a plain of black stone that was, judging by the proximity of the lake of molten lava that was just a few feet from me, most likely solid magma. I looked up and saw that there was no sky, really, just a screen of darkness that extended on forever. Strangely, there were a few plants and trees in the distance, away from the lake. Over there, I could see people walking around and talking, going about their daily business in Hell.

I slowly stood up, felling dizzy as if I'd been thrown down here from the surface, wich probably was the case. Once on my feet, I trudged over to what seemed to be a park.

Honestly, it wasn't much different from the surface. People were walking and talking on the benches, holding hands and laughing. Some even had pets and children with them. But what struck me the most was the state that these people were in: some had knives sticking out from there chest, others had their throat slashed and bloody, or even some had members of their body missing, like and arm or a leg, sometimes both.

My eyes widened in shock of seeing them like this, then to realizing how I myself must look. Stan had said that I was blue and frozen. I mustn't be that bad, though, I only drowned. I didn't blow my brains out with a gun, like the guy who just passed me apparently did. I shuddered.

"Why hello!" a cheery voice said from behind me. I spun around to face it. "You must be new here, I assume? I can see by the looks your giving to these souls," he said with a smile.

He was a blonde man, very thin-looking with bony features and bright baby blue eyes. He wore old fashioned clothes, something like they wore in the eighteen hundreds, perhaps. He had a red bow tie at his neck and wore a little black cap. He also sported a British accent when he spoke. For some reason, this man was vaguely familiar to me.

"So, dear, how did you end up here?" he asked sweetly.

I stared at him and frowned slightly before answering. "I drowned, apparently... I can't remember the past three days, really..."

"Apparently? Oh that's terrible!" He exclaimed. "You're not even sure of how you died." he clapped a hand on my shoulder comfortingly and smiled. "If it makes you feel any better, I was crushed by a giant mechanical dinosaur."

"Holly shit, dude! That's horrible!" I said. "But if you were crushed, then how come you look normal?" I inquired.

"Ah, you see, in death you can change your appearance as much as you like, be it your clothes or your age. I died when I was only nine years old and here I appear to be your age, around seventeen, right?" I nodded. "But most people down here don't know that and those who do often choose to stay as they died because it looks 'cool' or some such nonsense." he shrugged and his hand fell from my shoulder.

"Yeah, I noticed that." I looked at my hands and saw that they were a normal tint, not blueish. I shook my head and asked, "I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?"

"Oh! I don't believe I've said it yet. What horrible manners I have. My name is Philip Pirrip, but everyone calls me Pip, instead."

Yes! Of course! Pip! How could I forget? He was the one that everyone always ripped on in elementary because he was British and some shit. I had always been secretly opposed to that practice, but then again, I valued my friendships with the three others as well. So I'd said nothing.

My expression must've changed because he asked me shortly after, "You seem strangely familiar to me. Have I ever seen you before somewhere? Perhaps during life? Though that is highly unlikely. But your hat..." he trailed off.

"Kyle Broflovski," I said.

Pip stared at me for a moment and his face became one of delight as recognition flashed in his blue eyes. "Kyle! Ah yes! Kyle, old chap! Now remember you!" He pulled me on for a hug and I gladly accepted, loving the human contact. He pushed away after some time and a frown marred his delicate features. "But, how on earth did you ever end up here? As far I knew, you were always the sane and rational one of your friends, not one to throw yourself in a pond for no reason."

"That is something that I myself would like to know," I replied.

"How strange," he said. "Oh! But perhaps Damien could help us!"

"Damien?" I repeated.

"Yes! You remember the young chap with the dark hair and red eyes? The one who turned Kenneth into a platypus when he got angry," he supplied.

"Oh yeah! Him. And how come you remember Kenny's name but not me?" I asked.

"Ah, he is a frequent visitor of Hell, our dear Kenneth,"

"Really?" I said confusedly.

"Yes, yes, he comes here once a week or so. He's been twice this week, poor soul. It's a shame he's always getting killed."

"What?"

He took my arm and led me down the path in the spars trees and said simply, "You'll see soon enough."

I went to say something but the words died in my mouth as we found ourselves in front of a huge wrought iron gate, with two huge, snarling dragon statues standing guard on either side. They were sculpted so beautifully and detailed that they almost seemed real, living. As the gates opened, I swore that I saw the left one twitch and follow me with it's gaze. I hurried up and followed Pip inside the yard with a chill passing down my back.

Once past the gates, the scenery changed so drastically, I thought I was back on the surface again. The yard was made to rival the grandeur of one of the great gardens in Versailles, with all the exotic plants and the statues that decorated the place. High hedges and colorful flowers seemed to go on for miles on end, their smell almost overpowering the stench of sulfur that hung in the air, ever present. The sight of such life in this desolate place really was quite special and magnificent.

The path we were walking along lead to a huge, dark mansion, the building materials most likely made of obsidian, if the environment was anything to go by. It looked much like the castle of the vilain in a fairy tale movie that I watched when I was toddler, the tall spires and menacing aura that came from it. I stumbled briefly at the thought that I had to enter it, but caught myself in time before the British man noticed anything.

"Pip, where are we going?" I asked curiously.

"Why, we're going to see Damien at his house," he replied. "Though technically it's his father's house. He rarely comes out, so it's best if we go see him ourselves."

"Huh, okay..." I trailed off, unsure.

"It's been much better since Satan sent Sadam to Heaven. Oh, how he was a pain, always recking havoc and putting us through Hell, no pun intended. A true splinter in the thumb, that one. Since then we've had peace and quiet, with only the howls of pain from the prisoners ringing through the halls." He turned to look at me and laughed at the horrified expression that I made. "Haha! I'm sorry, I just had to. No, he doesn't do that in the mansion, but he has a place closer to the actual Gates of Hell to torture the sinners. You and I are a few of the lucky ones who didn't pass through there, thankfully."

"Yeah, had enough of a headache when I landed here in the first place." I responded.

"Yes," he chuckled. "I know what you mean."

By now, we had reached the doors and Pip simply pushed open the great carved doors effortlessly, despite him being only a fraction of their size. Inside, I gawked at the grandeur of the place. I truly did feel like I was in one of the books I read often.

The main Hall was made of the same stone as the rest of the building, but it contained crimson highlights from the numerous torches that lit the vast room amongst the many carvings, depicting scenes of war and death, that ran along the walls and pillars. The latter reached from the floor to the high ceiling, carvings of demons and gargoyles climbing them, so beautifully designed that they seemed to live as I walked past them, their stone eyes following me. I stopped by one in marvel and took in the details. It was a snarling demon, it's sharp fangs exposed as it's lips were pulled back. Long horns extended to either side of it's head, adding menace to the sculpture. It's face was somewhat resembling that of a man's, but it also had a feline look to it, mostly due to the feral snarl it sported.

I went on to observe the next and was just as facinated by it, as it was different but nonetheless magnificent. Eventually I lost sight of Pip and I slightly panicked when I couldn't find him.

"Pip!" I called out.

"Broflovski," a voice growled behind me, obviously not the one I was looking for.

I spun around and was face to face with Damien, his red eyes glaring at me menacingly. He was as dark as I remembered, the only thing that had seemingly changed about him was his age: he appeared to be around my age as well, as if he'd also grown up in time. Of course, I knew that was not possible in Hell, so I found it slightly strange that he take on this appearance instead of an older and more developed one.

However, I didn't linger on these thoughts as his sight sent chills down my spine, as he was not the same nine year old boy I knew, and I was somehow afraid for my life, even though I was dead.

"H-hey, Damien," I stuttered.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "Who let you in?"

"I-I was with Pip a-and we were l-looking f-for you..." I took a step backwards when he came closer. I could almost se the fire in his eyes, and it was scary as fuck.

"You-"

"Damien!" the Brit's cheery voice cut him off be for he could say more. "There you are! I was looking for you all over!"

"Why did you bring him here?" the demon turned him, his voice a little softer.

"Because, dear, Kyle has a little problem and I thought that you or your father might be able to help him." he explained as he tugged on his sleeve to bring him over to where I was standing. I didn't fell as menaced by his presence with Pip here, so I managed to stay there.

"How can _we_ help him? With what?" He spat.

Pip paid no attention to his tone. "You see, Kyle here has died of some mysterious reason. Apparently he threw himself into Stark's Pond and his friends found his dead body three days ago."

"So? He just killed himself because he was tired of his shit life. I can't say I blame him-"

"No! You don't understand!" he insisted and shook his arm that was still in his grip. "He doesn't remember doing it or the three days that followed his death."

"That true?" Damien asked me.

"Yes, it's true," I replied. "I just remember waking up this morning and after the world went on ignoring me, the only person who could see me, Kenny, told me-"

"McCormick!?" the demon spat the name out like it was poison and recoiled.

"Now, now, dear, it's only Kenneth, he hasn't done anything wrong." Pip soothed.

"He told me I was dead and to go to Hell if I wanted answers." I finished, taking a step away from Damien's seething glare.

"And that's why I thought you could help." the Brit finished himself.

The demon's fiery gaze cooled a little when he spoke next. "Let's go somewhere more comfortable to discuss," he said and spun around, walking away into a dark corridor.

We both followed him without word into the passageway that was devoid of any lighting whatsoever. This didn't bother me, however, because I had no trouble seeing in the darkness. We walked for a while until we came out into a large room, wich could serve as either a ballroom or a dining room, as the grand carved table in the center indicated.

We each took a seat around it, Damien at the head, Pip to his right and me to his left. Out of nowhere, a silver tray with what looked like tea appeared right before my eyes, in the middle of us three. I looked up and the British teen said,

"Care for a refreshment?"

I nodded and he poured me a cup of jasmine tea. I shook my head when he asked if I wanted sugar. He served me the cup and I held it, taking the warmth in, because I felt chilled despite my surroundings. He did the same for Damien and himself and when everything was set back, the demon spoke up.

"You say that you don't remember dying and that you have no memories if the past three days, right?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"Pip, didn't my father say that he'd wanted to attack Heaven three days ago?" he turned to him.

"I believe so, yes. Why?" I could see the confusion on his features and I felt as he looked.

"Then it was prophecy," he stated simply, taking a sip if his tea.

"What?" we asked in unison.

"There was a prophecy that said that if the One With the Three Curses were to die three days before his Day of Birth, Heaven would gain complete immunity from the forces of Hell, rendering Satan powerless towards God, and would remain as such for eternity." he explained.

"The One With the Three Curses?" I asked, vaguely aware that I'd heard that somewhere before.

"Yes. Jewish, Ginger and Jersey." he said.

"That's absurd, exactly the same bullshit that I would expect from Cartman... Oh shit," I stopped myself.

Cartman had once told him the same thing, eight years ago, when the Jersey people were invading the world. I'd told him that it was a load of crap because I wasn't born in Jersey, but in South th Park. Of course, I proved him right by 'transforming' into a Jersey myself to save his fat ass. Only he'd called it the Curse of the Three J's: Jewish, Jersey and Jinger (because he can't spell 'ginger' right).

"What's wrong, Kyle?" Pip asked, concerned.

"Cartman told me the exact same thing years ago, except he'd called it the Curse of the Three J's."

"Did he say anything else?" Damien inquired.

"Only that he couldn't trust me a and that they needed to kill me before I betrayed them," I said flatly.

"It was pure coincidence, then," the demon said.

"OK, so what do we do about it?" Philip asked.

"What the fuck do you want me to do about it?" he spat.

"Well, we could find out why he threw himself in the pond, for one," he replied evenly.

"Why does he care?"

"Because it would give him some closure."

"What the fuck is there to close? He's dead. Simple."

"That's easy for you to say!" the blonde shouted. "You were never alive in the first place!"

"And I'm fucking happy about it, too!" they rose from their chairs and sank down in mine."I never wanted to be!"

Pip looked as if he would jump on Damien at any moment, so I spoke up.

"I don't care why I died." I said plainly, because I truly didn't. "I just want to get back to life."

Damien looked at me incredulously and burst out laughing, the sound echoing off the high ceiling and dark walls, adding a sinister element to his laughter. I stood up and waited patiently for it to subside. After a few minutes, it finally did and he looked into my eyes with his blazing stare.

"How stupid are you? To think that God would accept to send you back. Was it McCormick that told such nonsense?" he was still chuckling.

"No, it wasn't Kenny. I just want to go back. I need to go back..." I said.

"Yeah, you and almost every other soul down here. Forget it, ain't gonna happen, Broflovski." he stated flatly, though mirth still sparkled his orbs. My heart sank at his words.

"But surely there must be something we can do!" the blonde cried. "We must try something, at the very least!" he pleaded Damien.

The demon looked at him long and hard, clearly thinking this through. After a moment, he shrugged and said, "We could go see my father, see if he would be willing to talk to God." He flare in my chest. "But I'm not assuring anything out of this. Now come." He turned and strode away, out of the chamber and into yet another dark corridor, Pip practically bouncing with joy as he followed.

We soon reached what apeared to be Satan's private quaters, deep within the mansion. We stood at the huge double doors while we waited for a servant to open them.

I examined them while I waited. On them was carved the satanic cross with a fire-breathing dragon wound around the main part, it's huge wings spread wide from the end of one door to the other. It was carved directly into them and in the dim lighting of the torches, it seemed that the gold was simply a part of the stone and not added afterwards.

I marveled there until I was disturbed from my reverie as the doors opened and we entered.

Satan was siting on a spiked, metal throne that looked terribly uncomfortable, discussing something with what was probably his advisor that was cloaked at his side. They were speaking in a hushed and hurried manner and stopped when we approached. He dismissed his servant and gave us his attention.

"What brings you here, son?" his voice boomed in the chamber.

"We have something to ask you, Father. Well he does, anyway," he pointed to me.

I cleared my voice timidly, a little intimidated by Satan. After all, it wasn't every day that one saw the devil himself. "Well, you see, um..." I tried to find the right words.

"He was the One With the Three Curses that prevented you from attacking Heaven, three days ago." Pip finished for me. "We were wondering if it was possible to send him back to life, since the prophecy has been completed and we have no use for him down here."

"And what makes him so special that he would have the right to return to the living?" he inquired.

"Well, he's a friend of Kenneth's, for one..." the blonde searched for more reasons, but none more were needed.

"Kenny? Ah, but of course I could help his friend! He's helped me so much and I haven't repaid him yet." he sat up straighter in his throne. "I'll see what I can do, even if I'm not on the best speaking termes with God, right now."

"Thank you!" I said, bowing down.

"Get up, boy." the Devil chuckled. "No need to thank me yet. Now go, all of you, I have work to do." he dismissed us.

We exited the room, Pip and I, while Damien stayed back to tall privately with his father. After walking for a while in many twisting corridors, we finally came to a halt in front of a dark door and though it was smaller than the ones to Satan's chambers, it was no less impressive.

It, too, had the satanic cross and the dragon, but it was smaller and the gold was absent, even in the torchlight.

"This will be your room for the time of your stay here. You'll find everything you need inside and I if you should ever want something, simply ring the bell on the table and a servant will be there." Pip said to me, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Thanks. You don't know how much this means to me," I smiled genuinely.

"You're most certainly welcome! Just because we're in Hell doesn't mean that we're all bad people. I'd always do a anything for a friend," He paused and seemed to debate something in his mind before asking, "If you don't mind my asking, why is it that you want to return to surface so badly? Because I truly do agree with what Damien says about it being worst that here."

I took the handle and replied simply, "Life is a bitch, but love is worst." _Because it always calls you back, no matter how hard you try to ignore it or if you simply don't see it even though it's been at your side all along_ , I thought for myself and entered my room.

The first thing that hit me as I walked in was the familiarity of it. I was back in my room, in my house. I gaped in shock. _What the fuck?!_ How was this possible!? I turned to demand an explanation from Pip, but the blonde had already disappeared from sight.

I examined my surroundings further to find that it was exactly like it, down to the very last details, like how my clothes were lying around and how my math books were spread out on my desk in front of my window. Christ, it even _smelled_ like my room. I slowly walked over to the glass as I marveled and looked outside. The view wasn't like on the surface, of course, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

It gave out onto a cherry blossom garden and the trees were in full bloom, the pink petals floating in the warm breeze that blew in the branches. Mixed amongst them were almond blossoms, their white flowers specks of white, creating a sea of soft petals on the ground. Through the garden I could see a stone path winding in the small forest.

I stood there, mezmerized for what felt like long minutes before the sudden urge to go walk among them was upon me. I turned from my window and thought of how I would get there, since I was completely lost in this place. My gaze landed on the silver bell that rested on my nightstand and I picked it up, gently ringing it. It had a cristalline sound to it that was quite particular and enjoyable to the ear.

Not a minute later, a knock was made at my door. I opened it up to a tall man with shoulder length jet black hair and red eyes, much like Damien, except he looked much nicer than the latter. He had a slim face and elegance in his movements, like a professional butler of a sort. Though he had a dangerous gleam in his gaze that wasn't masked by the casual smile across his features.

"What are your wishes, Master Broflovski?" he asked with a British accent.

"Master Broflovski?" I repeated, not quite disliking the way it sounded.

"Yes, it is only polite for me to call you that for the time of your stay here. Or would you rather I call you something else?" he asked.

"Just Kyle would be fine," I decided.

"Very well, Kyle. What is it that you wish of me?"

"I want to go into the garden, the one with the cherry blossoms, outside my window."

"Of course," he smiled and turned. "Follow me."

I did as I was told and followed him through another long series of twisting, dark corridors, until we were on a wide terrasse of a sort overlooking a Japanese rock garden and the blossoms just past that. A stone path conected the two, all the way through the garden.

"Shall I leave you?" the butler asked.

"Yes, thank you," I dismissed.

I strode down the path, past the stones and into the forest. All around me, pink and white petals flew down, softly brushing my skin and falling into my hair. The air here seemed pure and serene, strangely, considering in what realm I was. I enjoyed the peace as I walked and I let my mind wander a bit.

The first one to come to mind was the lyrics to a song that I'd heard long ago. _You're a cherry blossom, you're about to bloom. You look so pretty, but you're gone so soon._ Then next one was that of Stan confessing his love for me. I smiled as I remembered when I'd realized when I felt the same.

We were in fourth grade, it was the time when we had to take care of the egg that Mr. Garrison (or was it Mrs. Garrison?) had given us as a project. I was really disappointed that I had been paired with Wendy, and I thought that it was extremely weird the way that Stan was acting because if it. He'd been so cold to me in those times, but the cheery on top was when he'd said my hat was stupid. That really hurt. I'd been so worried about his comment that after we'd proven Garrison wrong about gay mariage, I'd asked him about it. He'd responded by putting his hand on my shoulder and saying it was the finest hat he'd ever seen. That had truly touched me, and strangely, it was then that I realized that I loved this guy and that I would love him no matter what happened. I'd never told him anything because I treasured our friendship and I didn't want to take the risk of ruining it. I did well by doing so, because apparently Stan only came to his senses three years later, in seventh grade.

I chuckled fondly at the memory. Then another thought passed through my mind. Kenny. He was a strange one, that guy. He's the only one who could see me dead and also the one that suggested that I go to Hell. How? Why? And them there was the comment Pip made about Kenny being a frequent visitor and Satan saying that he would help any friend of Kenny's. Something made me think that he was no ordinary kid. I would ask Pip and Damien about it next time I saw them.

I wandered in the garden for a few hours until I got tired and I returned to my room, this time without the help of anyone. It was haunting, the exactitude of it. I shrugged out of my shirt, stepped out my pants and shoes and fell into my bed, my head hitting the pillow.

I was out in a matter of seconds.

...

In the next few hours after my sleep (what I assumed to be a few days in the surface, with no real way to tell time down here), Pip came to get me and brought me back to Satan's chambers.

He and Damien were waiting patiently for me, and there was a third figure to the Devil's right that I didn't recognize. When he turned to face me, I saw that he had shaggy brown hair with caramel colored eyes and a cigarette that hung from his lips. His face was sharp and angular, with a rough stubble that coated his cheeks and chin. He was dressed in a green shirt and black pants and small shovel hung at his hip. He also had wings, wich led me to believe that he was either one of those people who knew about the appearance thing, or he was an angel.

Then it dawned on me.

"Christophe?!" I exclaimed.

"Hm?" he grunted as he saw me. "Oo are you?"

"It's me, Kyle!" I took a step towards him, my arms outstretched.

"Kyle? I don't know you... wait... Kyle?" recognition flashed through his eyes and he met me in an embrace.

"It's been a long time, Mole." I said when we parted.

"Indeed, eet 'as." he replied.

"I always wondered what happened to you after that night, at the execution. You died in my arms and just disappeared without a word after that." I chuckled.

"Ha! As fate would 'ave eet, God made me one of ees angels. One of ees special ones, at zat. Sends me to do all kinds of sheet, lazy fucker zat 'e ees." he said bitterly.

"Then if your an angel, what are you doing down here?" I asked.

"I don't know, I just arrived 'ere an 'our ago. God sent me saying zat I had to bring someone from 'ere to 'Eaven. Said zat Satan knew who 'e was talking about." he shrugged and looked to the latter.

The Devil spoke. "Yes, here he is. It's Kyle that you are to bring back." he turned to me. "Take care and good luck with your quest. I've done all I can to help you. The rest is in yours and God's hands."

"Again, thank you so much," I said to him.

"I'll find a way to see you again," Pip said, "And if not, then hopefully it'll be at least another eighty years before you come back."

I smiled, "Will do, Philip. Bye Damien," I waved to him.

"Hn," was all he grunted.

"Well eef you are all done," Christophe spoke up, slightly impatient. "We should probably get going. I don't know wat you want wit' God, but eet must be important. Let's go." He put a hand on my shoulder.

The world around me faded and was replaced by blackness that enveloped me blissfully.

 **Yay! Finished! Hope you enjoyed. Any and all feedback is very, VERY, apreciated. Also, I'd like to thank my two reviewers and my follower for being there. It really makes my day when I wake up in the morning and see a new review or a follower for my stories.**

 **As last time, flames will be used to keep me warm.**

 **Sayonara!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Ahhhhhhh... my third chapter... It's been a long ride for me up 'til now, you know. This is the longest chapter yet, with seven thousand some odd words. Truth is, I didn't want to make a two thousand word chapter so I just left it in with the third one. Lots going on, in this one, too.**

 **Also, I'd like to thank my two faithful reviewers "MidnightLuve" and "CatLover90" for leaving a review on the two previous chapters.**

 **Unfortunately, I do not own South Park, as much as I'd like to. It belongs to Matt Stone and Trey Parker.**

 **Anyhoot, read on, chers lecteurs.**

I lay there for an unknown amount of time, enveloped in light and comfort, an air of serenity all around me. I felt like I was laying on a fluffy cloud, I was so comfortable. I could have just layed there for all eternity, even if the world ended now, for all I cared. I didn't want to move, not even open my eyes to see where I was, I was so comfortable. I hadn't slept like this in _ages_ , so, naturally, I didn't want to to end this precious moment.

I hummed as I felt myself drift back off into sleep, but was held back by some movement beside me. The cloud that was my bed duped slightly as someone leaned on it.

"Kyle..." I heard them whisper with a french accent. "Kyle," they said a little louder. I grunted and rolled over, away from the source of annoyance. I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder and was shook not violently, but not quite gently, either. "Broflovski! Get ze fuck up!"

I recognized the voice to be Christophe's when I finally turned to face him with a grunt. "What?"

"We are 'ere," he said. "In 'Eaven," he precised at my lost look.

"Oh yeah..." I remembered now. Me dying, going to Hell, seeing Pip and Damien, asking Satan for help...Stan confessing...

"Come, ze fucker will see you, now," he said in his gritty voice, rough from smoking since he was at least eight, probably younger.

I got up and looked back at my bed, wich turned out to be nothing more than an ordinary white bed with ordinary white sheets, not a cloud as I had earlier thought. I scolded myself for thinking something so stupid. But then... No.

Heaven wasn't all that special, really. It was mostly all white stone walls with nothing on them except for the occasional orb that served as light sources. On our way to wherever Mole was leading me, we encountered few people, and those we did sent us a warm, quite creepy smile. I immediately decided that if everyone was like this here, I prefered Hell a thousand times over. At least the souls there had some kind of decency.

We walked for a while in silence, until something crossed my mind.

"Hey, Christophe," I said.

"Hn?" he grunted, his way of saying that I had his attention.

"Can I ask a you a question?" I asked, cautiously, for whatever reason.

"Speet eet out already," he huffed.

"What do you know about Kenny?" he looked at me as if I'd asked him if I was dead. Still not quite sure, but then. "Because Pip said something about him being a frequent visitor of Hell and Satan said that he was his friend. Damien also seemed to hate him an awful lot, even though he hasn't seen him since fourth grade, I think."

"Kenny? Was 'e ze one wit' ze orange parka?" he seemed thoughful.

"Yes, him."

"Ah! Oui, bien sûr! I see 'im once een a while, but not very often." he said.

My eyes widened. "You see him here?"

"Where ze fuck else do you want me to see 'im?" he said.

"But, how? That makes no sense!" I exclaimed. "If he got to Heaven, then that means that he would have to die! But he's alive! How!?"

"Well done, génie. You figured eet out. 'E dies all ze time, zat kid. 'E was God's fuck-up, ees wrong expérience zat made eem immortel." he explained. "And before you ask 'ow, I 'ave no fucking idea." he pulled out a cigarette and light it.

"So..." I saw Mole role his eyes as he took a drag. "So, is that why he was the only one who could see me?"

"I told you, I don't know. You can ask God and maybe 'eel tell you." he pointed to the large double doors (what was it with gods and their damn doors?) that we'd stopped in front of.

He knocked three times and they swung open slowly, revealing a grand open room, barren of any decorations whatsoever and huge windows that let the light stream in. Tall pillars of white stone held up the roof that was so far up, I couldn't see it. At the very end of the room, there was a kind of white, very fluffy futon upon wich rested a strange animal. It looked like a hippo with crooked teeth on a fat cat's body and a long tail that waved in the air slowly, lazy.

I had to dig very far in my memories to know what it was. After some long minutes, all the while walking forwards with Mole, I finally realized that what I was seeing was no animal, but God himself.

"Holy fuck," I breathed.

Mole turned to me and smirked. "My thoughts exactly."

"Hello, Christophe." God said, his deep voice booming in the huge room. "I see that you've brought The One, as he had requested."

He smiled in my direction and I immediately liked the guy. He seemed like a really laid back and relaxed guy, as if nothing bothered him in the least. I guess you learn that when you manage the world you created.

"Yes, 'e ees 'ere." The Mole said. "Now, eef you'll excuse me, I 'ave other sheet to attend to." he turned to me, his cigarette hanging in his lips and he put a hand on my shoulder. "Bonne chance, Kyle. I'll see you some time." and he walked to the exit, his feathered wings stretched out behind him.

I watched him go, facinated, until God reclaimed my attention. "So, what brings you here, Kyle?" he had the ghost of a smile on his lips, as if he already knew the answer. And he probably did.

"Well, I... You see..." I stuttered. How the fuck are you supposed to ask God to send you back to life? You can't! Not indirectly! So I went straight in, thinking, _what the fuck do I have to loose? I'm already dead_. "I would like to come back to life." There, I got it out!

He looked at me carefully, is gaze calculating. I shifted nervously while he thought, not really knowing how this is going to go. It could go either way: either he sent me back to life, we're I could live again with Stan, my family and my friends; or I could end up back in Hell, where I belong. Ha, I guess Cartman was right when he said that Jews went to Hell when the died. Right now, I kinda miss the fat bastard, with all his shit about Jews. Wow. Never thought that would cross my mind, never in a million years. Kind of disturbing when I dwell on it, but I guess death can do amazing things to someone.

I really do hope God will send me back. If he does, I'll be able to jump into Stan's arms and tell him all of the feelings I've kept pent up for years. It would be liberating and-and... I lack the words to describe the feeling it would give me.

 _Please God, send me back_ , I silently pleaded.

After what felt like agonizing hours, the Man (man?) finally spoke up. I stopped my fidgeting and devoted all my attention to his words.

"Well, I think I have something to offer you." he spoke slowly and pronounced each word carefully. "Since, in the Prophecy, it only says that The One with the Three Curses must die and his soul must remain as such for the protection to truly be eternal, I can send you back," I felt my heart leap out of my chest with a sudden burst of hope. "But!" Aww fuck, there it goes, the condition that will damn me back to Hell. "In order to do that, one soul must take your place."

"What?!" I exclaimed.

"Someone must take your place, Kyle, so that you may live again. Such is the condition. The decision is up to you: take it or leave it."

"But-but..." my voice died in my throat.

"Christophe!" he shouted. "Come escort Kyle to his quarters!" the said angel appears at his side.

He took my arm and was leading me to the doors, my thoughts reeling, when God called out. "Remember, Kyle, no one is perfect; we've _all_ made mistakes." and Mole whisked me out with a huff of smoke.

He led me to my quarters and I seemed to breathe again as I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Christophe left me and the words stuck in my head, playing on repeat like a broken record. No one is perfect, we all make mistakes... Why would he tell me that? Of course no one is perfect, only God is... unless...

My earlier conversation with Mole came back to mind. He said that Kenny was God's fuck-up, his wrong experiment. With what the Lord told me when I left and my old friends words, did that mean that the only way I was going to go back was through killing Kenny? Would I be willing and desperate enough to live again to rob someone else of their life?

Wait, wait. Didn't they say that Kenny had been to Heaven and Hell quite a few times? If _I_ killed him, what difference would it make? He'd just come back after. But then, he would have to take my place, so would that mean that he'd stay dead? If so, then I won't do it, I couldn't kill a friend for my own selfish reasons. But then my family and friends... No! What am I thinking!? I must have been dead for too long, 'cause my thoughts have gone a bit awry. But then again, this whole thing was fucked up.

But what if... what if there was a way to kill Kenny, without really killing him? Like having him die and then reviving him, his soul gone just long enough to fool the universe into reseting him. Would that work? And what would be the consequences? Why-

I stopped myself from thinking any further; I was giving myself a headache. I shook my head and ran a hand through my hair. I went over to my bed and lay down, intending to sleep on my problems and hopefully have some answers by morning.

I close my eyes and let myself drift off into my dream realm

...

 _I felt warm all around me, wrapping me like a blanket that protected me from the horrible and cruel world that waited to snare me in it's sharp claws. I snuggled closer to that warmth, not wanting to open my eyes for fear of finding myself back in... I don't know where, I just don't want this to end._

 _I felt a hand slide softly up my arm, making its way to my hair, where it stayed to play with one of the curls. I wondered briefly who was behind me but I reasoned that it didn't matter so long as they made me feel like this. If only I could do this with_ him _..._

 _I felt the person behind me shift a little and warm kisses were planted in the crook of my neck and move down slowly to my shoulder.I hummed apreciatively and smiled as I turned to maybe get a look at them._

 _They felt me shift and loosened their grip on me and I faced them, my eyes still closed. When I cracked open my lids, I saw a deep blue saphire gaze looking right back at me. I gasped and he just smiled._

 _"Bet you didn't think of finding me here, did you?"_

 _"I-I... No." I stammered. Of course not, I didn't think of finding him_ anywhere _anymore, never mind here..._

 _"Where are we, anyway?" I asked, hating that I couldn't name this place._

 _"Does it matter?" he arched a brow. "We're together, and that's all that matters to me."_

 _"Yeah," I agreed with a smile._

 _My gaze traveled from his eyes down his sweet, boyish features that made every girl in school moon at him, to his lips. I stared at them, looking so soft and inviting, a split second before pressing mine to them._

 _I stayed that way for a while, until I realized what I'd done. "Oh shit sorry!" I backed away but he brought me back and captured my mouth before I could say any more._

 _I lay frozen, then melted into the kiss. Oh, how this felt so right. His warm lips moved against mine gently, then with more fervor as I brought my hand to cup his cheek. He brushed his tongue on my bottom lip, asking for permission to enter. I allowed him access and we battled for dominance, me eventually giving in._

 _He broke the embrace to push me onto my back and straddle me. He bent down again and trailed kisses along my jaw, down my neck, until he found a particularly sensitive spot and latched on. His hands rode up my shirt and caressed my skin, sending chills down my spine. His fingers found one of my nipples and I arched my back as he toyed with it._

 _"You don't know how long I've waited to do this to you," he whispered. "The years of torture, how much it hurt to never be more than just a friend."_

 _"I know," I whispered back. "I know exactly how you felt. I've waited for this for so long, too."_

 _He lifted his head and we locked gazes, saphire into emerald, his raven hair partly hiding his brilliant orbs._

 _"I..." he trailed continued on, mouthing words that I couldn't hear._

 _"What?"_

 _He arched an eyebrow. "I said..." once again, his words were lost._

 _The world around me started to fade and his figure was being erased slowly. I tried to grab on to him but my hands passed through him._

 _"No!" I cried. "No no no! I don't want you to go! Stay please!" I tried to hold him back, in vain._

 _At last, he smiled and I heard him. "Don't lose hope."_

 _And he was gone._

 _..._

My eyes opened up to my quarters in Heaven. My cheek felt wet and I wiped the tears that were falling.

He was there, in my arms, holding me close, and then he was suddenly ripped away. It was just a a dream, I knew, but it felt so real and I wanted that feeling back; the warm and safe feeling that came from being in the arms of the one you loved. I'd never known that with anybody else than with him for the few times that it happened by 'accident'. I'd secretly enjoyed those times, even though I thought that I was the only one. I now knew that he did, too, and the thought pleased me to no ends.

I knew what I had to do now.

...

I walked down the halls of Heaven in hope of finding someone that could help me. All the passersby just smiled their overly happy and creepy smiles and moved on about their business. I felt like I was in a horror movie where everyone is always too happy and end up being part of a cult and kill every non-believer on earth. Stupid, yes I know, but I have my reasons.

Finally, oh, finally a familiar face! I saw Christophe by one of the many huge windows that lined the halls, smoking while he looked outside at the kingdom. He had an expression of distaste when I aproached him but his gaze lit up a bit at my sight.

"Christophe! I need your help!" I said.

"Hm?" he grunted. "Wit' wat?"

"I need to go back to the surface! I know what I have to do to get back." I implored.

"Care to explain zis grand plan of yours?" he asked.

So I did. I explained what God told me to do if I wanted to live again and what my plans were to get there. He listened all the while without a word, occasionally taking a long drag from his cigarette. By the time I was finished, he finished the first and was almost done the third.

"So you want to kill Kenny so zat you can live again?"

"Yes! Well, not exactly _kill_ him, per say, just, maybe... trick the universe into thinking he's dead." I clarified.

His expression was one of complete confusion, but he nodded nonetheless. "I'll 'elp you, so long as zer is no guard dogs." he shuddered. "I fucking 'ate guard dogs."

"Don't worry," I smiled reassuringly. "No dogs whatsoever will be involved. Except maybe Saprky." His eyes widened. "But he's too old to even bark when somebody's at the door." I hurried to add.

He sighed in relief. "Let's go, zen. I don't 'ave all day."

He put a hand on my shoulder as I thanked him and my vision went black.

...

I woke in front of Kenny's house, on the unkempt front yard. I looked around for any sign of the Mole, but none were to be found. I got up from the ground and brushed myself off by habit. I scowled at my condition and walked up to the front door. It took all of my strength to knock on the door. It seemed that the longer I was dead, the less contact I could make with the living world.

A moment later, Kenny's mom, Carol, answered the door. Of course, she couldn't see me, so I took my chance to slip in before she closed the entrance after seeing no one there.

Inside, Stuart was sitting on the couch, smoking and sipping a can of beer. Carol joined him a moment later and lit a cigarette of her own. She replied with a simple "no one" when he asked her who was at the door. They were watching a stupid TV reality show and I figured Kenny must be in his room, because he hates those kinds of shows.

I walked down the hall to Kenny's room and once again knocked. Only once, this time, I was getting kind of tired. He opened up almost as soon as my hand left the cheap wood. He stared at me, stunned for a minute and then smiled.

I smiled back and he made way for me to enter. He waited until the door was safely shut and bolted before speaking.

"Hey dude!" he greeted.

"Hey!" I said back.

"Long time no see."

"Yeah. How long has it actually been?" I asked, genuinely curious. I knew time flew when you were dead.

"Been about a month since I saw you last. We're Saturday, in case you're wondering," he added after a moment of reflexion. He moved to the bed and sat down, patting the space next to him for me. I sat beside him and I almost felt pike everything was back to normal. Almost.

"Oh shit," I whispered. "How's Stan been?"

"Pretty well, as far as loosing your best friend goes. Your family's copping good, especially your mom, which is really surprising. She's even gone off another of her famous crusades, about heavy metalusic being bad for America's youth or some shit. I've been fine, too, thanks for asking," he smirked.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly. "I'm not worried about you: you won't do anything stupid like turn goth forever or drink yourself into a coma. Stan, though, is an other question."

"Yeah, but he's been fine. Got out of his goth stage for the most part, though the black clothes and heavy music stayed. He stopped smoking and doesn't drink as much as in the beginning. I've been watching him. Hell, even Cartman has." he added, a bit bewildered himself that fatass would look out for anyone aside from himself.

"Huh, guess he does care about us, even if it's only to rip on us all the time." I remarked starkly.

Kenny chuckled. "Yeah... So. How's Hell been?" he asked, grinning a bit.

"It's not that bad actually. Think I like it better than Heaven, even," I said. I then told him about my week or so in Hell and then about my time in Heaven. I told him about Pip and Damien and Mole, when he asked for news of them. I talked about how I got to visit both places in one same death (as Kenny has only ever done it once, or so he says).

Then came the tricky part. I carefully explained to him my plan to come back to life. He listened in silence, the usual mirth and energy gone from his eyes, replaced with something graver and heavier. He watched me carefully the entire time I spoke, taking in my words and analyzing them meticulously.

"So what do you think?" I asked when I was done. "Will you help me?" I looked at him, silently pleading him as though my survival depended on him. Which it kind of did, in a twisted, fucked-up way.

He opened his mouth to say something and closed it after, his expression calculating. He dis it a few more times and I was starting to shift in my seat until I finally got up and began to pace around the room. I didn't want to rush him and blow my only chance of getting back to life.

 _Ok, it's over, I'm staying this way forever!_ I thought. _He's gonna say no and I'm gonna have to wait for Stan to die so that we can be to together and then-_

"How..." Kenny cut my line of thought as he dragged out the word. "How, exactly, are you going to 'kill' me?" his words were slow and calculated and his expression; unreadable.

"Well," I began, racking my brain for an idea. I hadn't exactly thought of that. "Uh, well... You remember that time we went to the rainforest in third grade and how you got hit by lightning and didn't stay dead 'cause that girl saved you?" I looked at him and his features still hadn't changed. Shit, he could be fucking serious when he wanted, not at all like the Kenny he usually is. It was kind of intimidating, come to think of it. I looked away and continued. "I thought that if we get you to get hit by lighting or something like that, we could revive you after you've been dead long enough to reset the universe."

"I was dead, yes, before she saved me that day. Fucking hurt, too, when I came back." He said.

He stayed silent for a long while and I started to pace again, my thoughts running wild. I tried to keep them in check and resist the urge to tell him to say something, but it was too much.

"Say-"

"I'll do it"

"-something! Wait what?" I stared at him.

"I said 'I'll do it'" he smiled a shit eating grin.

I looked at him in disbelief as I understood his words. "You'll do it? Really?"

"Yeah," his grin was replaced by a genuine smile. "Your my friend and I help my friend. Besides, it's not only you but your family and other friends, too, that I'm helping."

"Kenny," I went to put a hand on his shoulder but refrained. "You cannot know how much this means to me. Really, you truly are the best friend a guy can have. How can I thank you?"

"Well, I could think of a few ways..." he bounced his eyebrows.

"Aw, awww! No way dude! Sick!" I backed away dorm him in a rush.

"Why not?" he pouted and feigned hurt.

"Because you're a guy and that would be fucking gay."

"Stan's a guy, too, you know," he pointed out.

"I kno-" I cut myself off. "He's different," I said instead and looked away from the blonde.

"I was kidding, dude, don't worry. I'm not like _that_ ," he winked. "Just keep me from dying after this whole thing is done. Otherwise, I think I'll stay dead next time I go." he chuckled lightly.

I grinned and promised I would. We made up a plan as to how this whole thing will be organised. We did that for the rest of the evening and when I left, I headed over to Stan's house. He was part of the plan and I had to talk him into it. Well, 'talk' was big word, but, hey.

It wasn't quite dark yet, the sun just beginning to set over the mountains. I stopped in the street and listened to what was around me. The birds were singing their last songs for the day, the trees gently sawing in the breeze that carried the music to my ears. I thought I could feel the wind against my face, though that was most likely my imagnation. I heard people putting their stuff away and getting ready to retire for the night, or have supper. Whichever.

I felt a pang in my chest as I observed the scene. I should be doing all that, too. Though I've only been gone for about a month, from what Kenny told me, I still fucking miss it. I never thought I'd say this, but I kind of miss my mom yelling at me to do aomething, my brother making some sort of smart ass remark about some stupid thing, my dad giving me a piece of advice about something that I don't necessarily want to know, Stan dicking around with me while we played video games, even Cartman calling me a fucking Jew... the list could go on forever.

I guess it's like they say: You don't know what you've got until it's gone.

And now that I know what I had, I fucking want it back, and I'm going to do anything to get it back.

I start walking again and I find myself in front of Stan's house. The lights are on in the dining room, so I figure that they're having diner. As I know them so well, I go to the back yard and wait by the patio door. If they stay true to their habits, Randy and Stan will come out and have a beer and talk. Yes, he is only seventeen, but his parents are cool and it's not like Stan's an alcoholic or anything, okay?

I wait in the snow ('cause I don't get cold anymore) until the sun has set and the stars are starting to show themselves. True to my word, the two afore mentioned Marsh's come out with a beer in hand each. I seize my chance to go in before they close the sliding glass doors and I turn in time to see them grab chairs and settle down.

I look at them in longing as I wanted to join them as I sometimes did, of course with the utmost secrecy from my parents. Only God knows what they would do should they find out that their son was drinking with his best friend and his father, nonetheless. I shook my head and moved up to Stan's room. I passed Sparky on the way in the living room, and he raised his head lazily to acknowledge my presence. At least someone in this house could see me.

Thankfully, Stan had left his door open for the world to see. (Strange how things worked in my favor very often, since I've been gone.) I walk in and settle down at his desk, thinking of what I was going to say to him and, more importantly, how I was going to say it.

I looked around his bedroom for a way as I thought. How would I say it? _Say Stan, will you help me kill Kenny so that I can live again?_ No, that was a little too straight forward. But then, he was never one to take subtle hints very well. I knew from experience that you really did have to spell out what you meant most of the time. Like back in tenth grade, when a girl was hitting on him and he'd seemed too thick to see it for what it was. He just just thought she was very friendly and overly physical with people. That's all. Being the good friend that I was, I didn't like that she was around him so much and then told him what was going on. And him, being the sweet and compassionate person that he was, gently told her that he wasn't interested. She'd never spoken to him afterwards, goody for me. I thought that she was a total slut and a bitch of a person, one that I certainly didn't want around Stan.

I laugh. Thinking back on that incident now makes me realize that I was afraid that she would steal him away from me, that I was in fact jealous of her, strangely.

Finally, my eyes land on an old ouija board sitting in the corner of his room, pulled under a bunch of other board games that were collecting dust. I smilled. There was my means of communication.

I didn't have time to think of exactly what I would say to Stan, when he came in his room and closed the door.

Indeed, he looked somewhat better than the last time I saw him. He looked clean, as if he'd taken a shower not long ago. The smell of his bodywash proved my point as he walked past me to slump on his bed, face down in the pillows. He was still dressed in dark clothes, along the shades of grey and black, and his cross earing was still in place. I got up from my seat and he turned onto his back, letting out a long sigh. He'd gotten rid of that awful eyeliner that had lined his saphire eyes. His gaze, however, was still hollow. I could tell that he still hurt, and I felt guilty.

He was hurting because of me. And that hurt me more than anything, because I'd never do anything to cause that. I shook my head and told myself that it wasn't my fault, that I hadn't jumped into Stark's Pond on purpose, that it was God's will. Ha! I soud just like a crazy person, don't I? Hey, you know that it's the truth, though.

I walked over to the pile of games and gathered my force to knock over the first box. It's contents spilled onto the floor and it definitely caught my friend's attention. He sat up in his bed and looked at where the game of Scrabble lay spread out. His brow furrowed and he frowned. I took my chance under his gaze and nudged the ouija box.

I saw his eyes go wide as he whispered, "Kyle?"

I nudged the box again in response and he got up and grabbed the game. He set it up so that we could use it.

I smirked. I'd always mocked Stan for buying such things like this, always told him that it was useless, that past experience had taught us that we could see ghosts just fine without the help of a stupid board game. Never knew that I'd be the ghost using it one day.

"Kyle," he said and looked in front of him, at the other side of the board where I was sitting. "Please tell me if this really is you."

I used the cursor thingy to indicate that, yes, it was indeed me. He closed his eyes, smiled and breathed a heavy sigh. "Oh, thank God."

I took the thing again and pointed to the "No" and set out to tell him "Don't thank him, lazy fucker."

"What? Okay... if you say so," he chuckled. "Hey, are you sitting in front me?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"Good. Wouldn't want to make an ass of myself by talking to the air."

"Thankfully, no one can see you talking to the air, asshat," I pointed out.

He laughs and it was the most wonderful sound that I've heard in ages. How I've missed him.

"So, is it true that Jews go to Hell?" he asked.

"Yes, Cartman, I went to Hell." I snapped and he mocked hurt. "Don't ever tell him I went, though, 'cause I will haunt you for the rest of your life if you do."

He chuckled again and says that he wouldn't mind, so long as he got to talk to me all the time.

We continued this way for a while, talking of everything and nothing, just for old times sake. After a bout of laughter, he tells me something, that since I was dead, I might as well know now. He tells me about a dream that he had, where he and I were together again. How he'd final gotten to kiss me and how it felt so right, so real. Then how it all came to an end too soon, how he was taken away.

I sat there, utterly shocked. I'd has the exact same dream with him. I told him this and he seemed to look me straight in the eyes.

"What?" was all he said.

I explained it again and than added, "Call Kenny. Put him on speaker phone and ask him about my plan."

"The fuck...? Okay, I'll call him..." he looked troubled and confused as he grabbed his phone from the nightstand and dialed the blonde's number.

We heard it ring three times before a, "Hey, man. 'S up?"

"Kyle just told me to call you and ask about his 'plan'." See? Not one for subtlety, my Stan. "Care to explain?"

"Yeeah...That..." He said. "Get comfortable, this is gonna be long. Or no, wait. I'll be over in five." and he hung up.

Stan looked at the phone, stunned into silence. He spoke about a minute later, asking, "What the fuck is this plan of yours, dude?"

I indicated with the board that he wait, that Kenny would help explain in a minute. He nodded and we settled to wait. I was glad Kenny was coming over, I was getting tired of pushing the stupid cursor thingy around to speak with Stan. It was tiring, you know.

I took this time to watch Stan a bit. He was deep in thought, his face scrunched in a pensive way, his shoulders slumped as though he carried a heavy weight already. I took time to admire his features and feel a jab of _something_ in my chest. I wish I was back in that dream with Stan, where everything was okay.

"Dude, stop staring at me," he suddenly said, making me jump. "It's creepy."

"I wasn't staring!" I said indignantly.

"Yes you were, don't try to deny it, dickface." he smirked.

"Oh, fuck you, asshole." I spat, not angry at all.

"With pleasure," he said and his grin widened with a blush to accompany it.

I did the same and laughed with him. We knew echother so well that we didn't need to hear what the other was saying to know _what_ he saying.

I was startled by the sound of a knock at the door and Kenny entering and moment later to find us un our original places either side of the board.

"Hey dudes," he greeted as he sat cross-legged on the bed.

"Hey Ken," we repled in unison.

"So Kyle told you about the plan, huh?"

"Yeah," Stan said in a strangely flat voice. "Now that you're here, explain."

"Okay, okay, calm down a sec, I just got here," he held out his hands in a defensive manner.

"Just say it, Kenny," I sighed. "Not in the mood for bullshit, right now."

"Alright fine! Don't get your panties up in a wad!" he exclaimed and Stan looked puzzled, for he asked,

"You can see him?"

"Yeah. Now shut up and you'll know why later. So it goes like this..."

He explained my story, me correcting things here and there (because Kenny is Kenny and this can get distorted sometimes with him) and the blonde acting as my mouth piece. He listened with all of his attention as we did so, he even kept himself from asking any questions. I could tell that it was bugging the living Hell out of him, to stay silent like that for so long, but I could also tell that we were answering his inquiries as we went along. By the time we had finished, the digital clock on the nightstand indicated that it was now nine o' clock and the moon was shining bright outside through the window.

He paused when we were done. I could tell he was chewing on his thoughts, trying to make sens of what he'd just learned. Finally, he voiced what he was thinking, to be sure he'd heard right, no doubt.

"So let me get this straight. You, Kyle, have spoken to Satan and God in order to know why you mysteriously threw yourself in Stark's Pond. And that was because of a stupid prophecy that Cartman could have written and you asked God if he could give you life again. He said that Kenny was his fuck-up experiment gone wrong and you had the brilliant idea to kill him by striking him with lightning, then revive him, to reset the universe and send you back to the living world. That would be undoubtedly very painful for Kenny and yet he agreed to do it. The only part missing in this whole thing is me, so that I can revive Kenny when he gets hit."

"Well summarized, Stan!" Kenny clapped. "So are you in?"

"Kyle, why are you doing this?" he asked. "In all of your story, you never mentioned why you wanted to come back."

I looked at my blonde friend very seriously and said to him only, "You promise not to laugh, snicker, change my words for anything that might make me pass as stupid, even if you might find extremely stupid what I'm about to say."

"I swear," he promised solemnly.

I nodded and began. All the while I was talking, I watched my raven haired friend, gauging his reactions. I talked about my family first and he seemed as though he felt what I was feeling and he understood. I talked about our friendship and how it was special and more precious to me than anything else and how I couldn't wait until he died so that we might be together again. Then, when I told him about myself, his expression went to stone, completely still. I thought that since I had started down this road, I might as well see it through and see what's at the end. He had professed his love for me before I left for Hell, after all. I was curious to see what would come of this. Kenny was, too, by the way he kept looking at me and then at Stan.

He blinked a few times at the end, clearly shocked. He smiled and his eyes were shining from the held-back tears he was holding, as he said, "Yes. Yes, I'll help you. Of course I would, no matter what. We're super best friends, right?"

I let out a huge sigh of relief that I didn't even know I was holding. I laughed a little and went over to hug him, but refrained from doing so. Because being dead fucking sucks, especially when you know that the person you love loves you back and you can't fucking kiss them because your fucking dead. Fuck.

Kenny relayed my grunt of frustration into words and we began planning how we'll do this. Kenny said that there was to be a huge storm tomorrow night and that there might be a chance of lightning. We elaborated our plan well into the night and it was about three in the morning when we were done and Kenny left.

It was just me and Stan now, with a damn Wejya board as our only ways of communication.

"Welp," he yawned. "I'm beat. You sleep? You know, 'cause of of how you are and all..."

"Yes, I still sleep," I replied.

"Oh. Well, uh, do you wanna sleep in, uh, my bed?"

"Sure!"

I loved sleeping in Stan's bed. Most of the time, when we had sleepovers (yes, at ages sixteen and seventeen, we still had sleepovers every Friday, so fuck you), I usually slept there. There was a certain comfort that wasn't in mine and it smelled of Stan, the best smell in the world, if you ask me. Yeah, yeah, it's fucking gay, I know. But you can't deny the truth, can you?

He changed before getting into bed, giving me a nice view of his body (football had really done wonders to him, with tan skin, washboard abbs, muscled arms) and I soon followed suite. He saw the dip in the mattress and seemed a bit uncomfortable at the sight of my body's outline when he couldn't really see me.

"Well, at least I know for sure where you are," he said and lay down to face me.

I laughed and did the same. I fell aslleep deeply wishing that it could be like in our dream.

...

Rainclouds were gathering, the storm was brewing in the distance and it gave the day a morose and dark feeling. We gathered the things we'd need for today (well, Stan and Kenny gathered, I just watched and made the ocasional comment that Kenny would say aloud for Stan to hear) and we picked a spot on a hill for the evening. We chose a spot that was secluded but close enough to the town so that the paramedics could get there quickly when the need be. I made sure that Stan still knew how to revive and keep somebody alive 'till the medics come. Satisfied with his CPR skills, we went up to the hill and set up our stuff. I really hoped that this would work and that the storm would be big enough to have lightning.

It was late after noon when the rain started to fall. We'd set everything so as to attract as much lighting as possible, but so far, there was nothing but cold rain and very strong winds. No one was outside and those who did see us looked at us like we were crazy, wich, in a way, we were. We waited, waited, waited and waited some more until it was getting dark out. I was beginning to lose hope, for we hadn't even seen one flash in the sky.

It was with some regret that Stan announced that they would have to pack up, otherwise, the would all end up dead, frozen from the wind and rain. In town, we trudged along the sidewalks in misery and disapointement, heading home to get warm (not for me, though).

Suddenly, a huge "Crack!" was heard behind us. We turned just in time to see an electrical pole come crashing down. A live wire whippped out and hit Kenny on the right side of his chest, the opposite of his heart, thankfully. He fell to the ground and we rushed forwards to see his condition. Stan immediately called 911 and began CPR.

Indeed, the blonde was dead, electrocuted, as Stan pumped his chest and gave him mouth to mouth (much to my displeasure, as it was much like kissing, but compromises had to be made if I wanted to live again). Soon the paramedics were on site and all attention was in Kenny. I felt hope flare in my chest.

They pushed Stan out of the way, thanking him briefly, and then took out a defibrillator and zapped him a few times with it. Ironic, no? He just got electrocuted and they were shocking him to revive him. They moved about me, through me at times, even, wich was quite disturbing, until the blonde's back arched and he gasped.

He sat up and coughed a few times and the medics were all over him. By now, we'd gathered a crowed around us and they were clapping in joy that no one had died. I felt a little light-headed by now, as they were strapping Kenny on a bed. While they loaded him onto the truck, he caught sight of Stan standing next to me and gave us both a wink. My vision blurred. I tried to speak, but a sudden nausia took over me and I fell back, the world spinning.

Then, everything went white.

 **Yay! End of chapter three! Fear not, chers lecteurs, for this is not the last one. There is still one after this one that will mark the end of Kyle's quest for life. As I said above, thanks for the reviews. Also, I would love to add some more names to that list in the next chapter, so be kind and leave a comment :)**

 **As usual, flammes will be used to keep me warm (as I do live in the Kingdom of the North (a.k.a. Canada)).**

 **Jane!**

 **-Miriala-**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello! Been a week since last update, and this one will be the last one. Unfortunately (or not?) this story has come to an end in this chapter. For me, it's been a long journey and a great accomplishment, as I usually never go through with a whole story like this, much less one of twenty thousand some od words. So horray for me!**

 **And by the way, for me, the day I publish this last chapter, it's really is May 26th. Here in Quebec, Canada, anyway. You'll know why I said this later on.**

 **As you might suspect, I don't own South Park. Matt Stone and Trey Parker do.**

 **Anyhoot, read on, chers lecteurs, pour la dernière fois.**

I woke with a groan of pain.

Ugh! Fuck, it hurt! I felt like I had been pummeled by a fucking brute and I was lying in a hospital bed in casts, 'cause I couldn't even move it hurt so much. It felt like my bones were made of glass and if I did move, they were so fragile they would break. So I was contented to lay there on my side while the pain went on.

When it subsided, I found the strength to move. I rolled onto my back and pulled the blankets higher over my head, creating my own little world of darkness.

Wait... Blankets? That I could move without having to use the strength to move Cartman off his fat ass? I threw them off my head and sat up in the bed. _My_ bed. In _my_ room. In _my_ house. I looked to my desk and saw that the time was half past midnight. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and saw the date to be May twenty-sixth. My birthday.

I brought my hand and examined it in the moonlight that was filtering through my window. It looked solid and it still fucking hurt. Did that mean I was alive?

I jumped out of bed and landed with a heavy thud and a yelp. I got out too fast and fell to my knees, who'd failed me when I'd landed. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and my door flew open to reveal my mom in all her nightly glory.

She had huge hair curlers in her fiery hair and was wearing her most comfortable nightgown, wich was probably quite a few years old. She came in and helped me up.

"Are you okay, buhbby?" she asked, concerned.

I laughed as I sat down on my bed and she looked at me in confusion. "Yes, mom. I've never been better."

"Are you sure? Why did you fall, then?"

"Mom, I'm fine, I'm sure. Don't worry," I said and went in for a hug.

She stood frozen a moment bofore returning the gesture, because I never gave hugs usually, much less took them. It felt so good, the human contact, after being starved of it for so long. I clutched at her as if I would be ripped away at any moment (wich wasn't entirely out of the question). I had never really appreciated moments like this before, and it took death to make me understand how much I missed them. I guess you really don't know what you've got until it's gone, as the song goes.

I pulled away after a long moment and my mother looked at me curiously. "What was that for?" she asked. "It's not like I'm going anywhere soon, buhbby."

"I know, it's just..." I paused, searching for words. "I just really love you guys. You, dad, Ike, even my damn-" she gave a look that said _language, young man._ "-annoying cousin Kyle."

She smiled a warm motherly smiled and got up to leave. "I'm glad you think that, Kyle number Two," she grinned and left me alone to scowl at her. I'd really hated that episode of my life. I mean, I was her _son_ , for Christ's sake! Why the fuck was _I_ number two?!

I lay back down on my bed and grabbed my phone. Music. Oh, how wonderful music was, it's beautiful rythm and harmony of all the different instruments. I was the best art form, in the eyes of many people, and it has never sounded better than now. After a month without, it was divine.

I scrolled through my song list and saw an unfamiliar one. I clicked on it and the first notes were heard.

 _So sick of the hobo's, always beggin' for change_

 _I don't like how I gotta work, and they just sit around and get paid_

 _I hate all of the people who can't drive their cars_

 _Bitch you better get out of the way before I start falling apart_

 _I hate how my wife is always up my ass_

 _She always wants to buy brand new things but I don't have the cash_

 _I hate my job, all of my rich friends_

 _I hate everyone to the bitter end_

 _Nothing turns out right, there's no end in sight_

 _I hate my life_

 _How come I never get laid, nice guys always lose_

 _How could she have another headache, there's always some kind of excuse_

 _I still hate my job, my boss is a dick_

 _I don't get paid nearly enough to put up with all of your shit_

 _I hate my job, all of my rich friends_

 _I hate everyone to the bitter end_

 _Nothing turns out right, there's no end in sight_

 _I hate my life_

 _I hate that I can't tell when a girl's underage_

 _You know, I tell her she's a nice piece of ass_

 _then her daddy punches me in the face_

 _So if you're pissed like me, bitches here's what ya gotta do_

 _Put your middle fingers up in the air, go on and say "Fuck You"_

 _I hate my job, all of my rich friends_

 _I hate everyone to the bitter end_

 _Nothing turns out right, there's no end in sight_

 _I hate my life_

 _So much at stake, can't catch a break_

 _I hate my life_

 _No, it's nothing new hearing "it sucks to be you"_

 _I fuckin' hate my life!_

 _Fuck!_

I chuckled at the lyrics. Yeah, that was a song Stan put in there. Probably at the time I'd forgotten my phone at his house. It most definitely wasn't my doing; it was way too different from my usual pop and classical musical tastes. It was also the kind of music that my mom hated oh-so-much and had even led a 'crusade' to get it banned. Much good that did. Stan said hat it was all he could listen to, that everything else sounded like shit. Stan also thought that...

Wait, wait wait... Holly shit! Stan! How the fuck could I forget the main reason I went through all that ordeal?! I almost got Kenny killed, on top of it! And Kenny! How was he doing?! I have to see them!

I lept out of bed, despite my body's protests a and landed on my feet with little more grace that earlier. I threw on a random pair of pants and shirt that were laying around on the floor. I rushed out of my room after I had grabbed my green ushanka. I descended the staires two at a time and was out the door in a rush of wind, throwing on my orange jacket and stumbling as I got my boots on right. I sped down the road to the raven's house as fast as I could.

I got there, hoping that the lights downstairs were still on. They weren't. That meant that to get to Stan, I'd have to climb through the window. I ran to the back yard and climbed until I was outside his window. Thankfully, it wasn't locked, so I entered without difficulty. I tumbled onto the floor next to his bed in the dark room.

He was sound asleep, despite all the noise I'd just made. I snorted. He could've slept through World War II, if he'd been there. He was splayed out on the mattress, only on his boxers, as the sheets had been kicked off long ago, if their crumpled heap at the bottom of the he bed was any indication.

I approached his side, suddenly apprehensive about this whole thing. My earlier exitement and sens of urgency gave way to nervousness and a tinge of... fear? What the fuck for? Hadn't he told me that he loved me since seventh grade? Like, twice? I pushed that stupid feeling aside and looked at him.

His gentle, boyish features were marred by a grimace. His hair was sleep-tussled and sticking out at odd angles. His toned body was exposed to the moonlight, delicately tracing the curves of his muscles and casting long shadows in the room. He looked absolutely gorgeous like that and all I wanted to do was touch him. So I did.

I ran my finger down his abbs, feeling the smooth skin under my first fingertips. He moved in his sleep and I froze. He shifted a bit and remained sleeping. I let out my breath and continued moving my hand up his chest, grazing a nipple oh-so-slightly on the way wich made him breathe out in a rush. My hand came to his cup his cheek and then moved a stray strand of hair from his forehead.

I placed my hand back to his cheek, gathered my courage, bent down and kissed him. On the lips. I pulled back immediately when I felt him twitch.

"Who..." he groaned and his eyes fluttered open. I stood frozen by the side of the bed and he layer his gaze upon me. "Kyle?" I shuddered at my name. Fuck! Why was I so nervous?! He told me he loved, like, twice! Twice! Get a fucking hold of yourself, Broflovski!

"Yes...?" I replied.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in confusion as he sat up.

"I-uh... I came to, uuuh..." I was at a loss for words. So decided to show him.

I swooped forward and pressed my lips to his, grabbing his shouldest to steady myself. He stayed there, probably shocked, for a moment, before pulling me down onto the bed beside him.

"What was that for?" he asked after we broke away.

"Well... I..." I was never a good one for dealing with emotions, much less expressing them. "I know that you like me... and I never got a real chance to tell you, so here I am..." I chocked out, cringing, for whatever reason.

I felt his gaze like fire on me. "How did you know that?" he asked. "Did Kenny tell you? If he did, I'm gonna fucking kill-"

"No!" I cried a little too loudly. "No," I continued on a lower tone. "You told me, twice. Don't you remember?"

"What? I never said anything like that to anyone. Kenny was the only person who knew, and that was only because he figured it out on his own."

"Dude! I went from Hell to Heaven and back to be with you! I talked to fucking Satan and God himself to be back!" I said as I sat up and faced him.

"The fuck are you talking about?" he sat up, too, confusion written all over his face.

"Stan. The storm last night, Kenny?" I pushed. "You don't remember anything?"

"What is there to remember?" he asked. "And there was no storm last night. That was a week ago."

I sighed. I guess I was relieved, in a way. No need to explain too much. "Anyway, none of that is important. You're all that counts," I said and smiled.

"Yeah..." he agreed. "Hey... can we do that again?" he asked.

I nodded and he leaned toward me, capturing my lips in his. It was chaste at first, then he brushed his tongue lightly over my lower lip, asking for entrance. I granted him access and we engaged in a battle for territory. Eventually, I let him have dominance and he pushed me down on the bed, climbing over me. He rode my shirt up as he pushed his hands under it. His fingertips brushed my sensitive buds and I moaned. He took one and toyed with it, forcing me to try and hold back the noises I wanted to let out. Such a tease.

It felt so good, to have Stan here, like this, with me. I was what I'd wanted for ages and I finally had it. It was a dream come true. Literally. I decided I would go see Kenny tomorrow and thank him for what he did for me.

But for now, I was enjoying this.

...

Figuring that since it had been a week, Kenny must be out of the hospital. I left Stan's house with a huge grin plastered on my face and headed to the blonde's house.

It was Mrs. McCormick that answered the door and invited me in to wait for Kenny.

"I'd offer you some tea," she said as we sat at the kitchen table. "But we don't have any. You want some beer instead?" it easy a serious question.

"No, that's okay," I smiled in apology. I would never really understand Kenny's family. What kind of person would offer beer like tea to their guests? These guys, I suppose.

"Oh, alright then. Kenny!" she shouted down the hall. "Your friend is here! Get your ass outta bed!"

"I'm coming!" came the growled reply from the door at the end of the hallway.

A few minutes later, the blonde came into the room looking disheveled and giving his earlier reply a second meaning, by the looks of it. I shuddered and grimaced and he smirked. Carol left us to our things and he sat down across from me.

"Hey, dude," came the usual greeting.

"Hey yourself," I said. "How you been?"

"Not too bad for someone who got hit by high tension electrical cable. I've been through worst." he stated as if everything was of utmost normalcy. Wich, at this point, I guess it was.

"Shit, yeah. How did that go? Like, after I was gone?" I asked.

"Well, I don't know much. I was in the hospital all of last week and they only let me out Sunday. I know Stan was a fucking pain in the ass, always by my side and always asking me if the whole thing would work. I managed to survive that and came out of it with a pretty sweet scar, too."

He lifted his shirt to reveal it. There was a circle the size of a quarter on the right side of his chest, about two inches bellow his collarbone. From it stemmed a whole bunch of branches like lighting bolts themselves, reaching up to the back of his neck and down into his jeans. The skin was still pink and it looked like it hurt like heck. It was a somewhat facinating and awesome scar.

"Awesome, dude." I said.

"I know right?" He said excitedly and put his shirt back down. "I'm glad I did that thing, now that I know I didn't kill myself to get you back. Though I wouldn't be surprised if Stan didn't remember a thing."

"No, he doesn't. But why?"

"Because you know how I told you that I was immortal, but you never remembered and how it took other people to tell you so that you could remember?" I nodded. "Well, this is the same thing. Everything to do with your death and your coming back is forgotten; all the evidence is erased from existance. No one knows that you died, now, except me, 'cause I'm immortal. Don't be surprised if people find funeral clothes that they don't remember buying."

"Holly shit that's fucked up. We really are God's fuck-up town." I sighed.

"Ha! No shit. Anyway, I'm not immortal anymore, I think." he said.

"How do you know?"

"Just a gut feeling. And I'm not exactly keen to find out the hard way, so I'll just be careful."

"Good idea," I added.

"So, speaking of Stan, how'd it go?" He asked, curiosity sparkling in his sky blue orbs. "Did you tell him? What'd he do?"

"Yes I told him, and we're fine now. It's like a dream come true." I smiled.

"That's good," he said a and his gaze changed a bit, but I couldn't quite place what it was as it was gone before I could say. "I can't believe that you never noticed it before."

"He's my best friend, why the fuck would he ever want to change that? He looked completely normal to me, Hell, he was even with Wendy not too long ago!"

"But everyone kept telling you guys. Why didn't you listen?"

"Probably because I thought it was complete bullshit at the time," I stated.

"Good point." he conceded."Anyway, I'll let you get back to your lover and I'll get back to mine," he winked and I scowled.

"You really are something, Kenny McCormick," I got up and went to to the door.

"I am the One and Only," he grinned and returned to his room when I left the house.

Today was a new day. And my birthday. I groaned and went home to 'celebrate'. At least I had Stan there now to suffer with me.

...

I went to my room when he left and let my mask fall. My shoulders slumped as I fell onto my now empty bed, as the girl was gone.

Fuck, he looked so happy. And I was happy, too, in a way. Happy that he was happy. Yeah, that was it. I wonder why I'd agreed to help him in the first place.

Oh yeah. I loved him.

Stupid as I was, I decided to help him pursue his quest when all I had to do was keep him to myself. I was the only one who could see him like that and I could have kept it like that forever, if I wanted to. And I did, believe me, I did. But I saw the desperation in his eyes when he came to me and I just couldn't say no. I would have felt too guilty keeping him miserable for my own selfish desires. And he was my friend. I would do anything to help my friends, even Cartman, if need be. It was was in my ways of living, my principals, my code of conduct, if you wish.

So here I was, fucking depressed while he was out there frolicking with his boyfriend and all happy. Fuck karma. 'You get what you deserve' they say. But what the Hell did I ever do to deserve this?!

A knock on my window startled me from my thoughts. I moved the curtain to reveal a smiling Butters with a bag thrown over his shoulder. I opened the glass pane and let him climb through.

"Hey there, Kenny!" he greeted brightly.

"Hey, Butters," I returned somewhat less enthusiastically.

"Gee, Ken, what's wrong?" he asked when he set his bag on my bed.

"It's nothing, don't worry," I dismissed.

He frowned. "Now, now," he put an arm around my shoulders and heat flooded my cheeks. Strange. "I have just the thing for to make you feel better,"

He guided me to the bed, sat down and rummaged through his backpack, to come out with a metal container in hand. He pushed it into my hands and I opened it.

The sweet scent of baked goods hit me instantly. I saw that it was chocolate chip cookies that I was holding, still warm from the oven. I grabbed one and took a big bite of it, relishing the taste of the melting chocolate on my taste buds.

"Oh my fucking God, Butters, these are amazing," I said around stuffing another cookie in my mouth.

"They are?" he asked. "I made them myself,"

"Make more. You could sell these, they're so good. On second thought, just give them all to me."

"Gosh, aren't you greedy?" he smirked and sat down beside me. He picked up a cookie himself.

"I'll keep you here if I have to," I joked.

"My parents would be awful worried if you did that," he knocked his knuckles together in that way that he always did.

I moved on to a more joyous topic and we spent the afternoon like that, sitting on my bed, eating cookies and talking. I was really glad I had Butters as my best friend. As much as I like the other three, he was still always there for me and knew when and how to comfort me.

I really appreciated him and I don't know what I'd do without him.

 **Yay! Finished!**

 **By the way, that song in there is a song from Theory of a Dead Man, so it's not mine.**

 **It is at an end, finally, and I'd like to thank all my faithful reviewers and followers and favoriters (real word?) for the support the gave me. Also, the people who read this but didn't favorite or follow because they didn't have an account or something, you're just as important. As an author, I can say that it's very encouraging to know that people appreciate your work. So I want to say something really important to you.**

 **THANK YOU!**

 **Bon, bien, à la prochaine, chers lecteurs!**


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